Chapter Text
The pure vessel stares back at a mask that is all too familiar. The specter has always haunted its dreams, a reminder of its many failures. They lift their nail. A challenge. Of course. It deserves this. The specter has every right to be resentful that it has let it fall to their doom. They duel in a dark arena, a familiar song and dance.
The specter has gotten better. (Better? Since when? How many times have they done this?) They duck and dodge out of the pure vessel’s strikes, like they know what its next moves will be. Like they have done this so many times that they can predict the vessel’s movements. They are quick to whittle it down, and finally it falls to its knees, exhausted.
Well played. It allows itself to be pulled back into the familiar burning realm of the Radiance. She won’t like it if it’s gone too long, it assumes. Already, it can hear her deafening screeches.
Light awashes its blurring vision, and then inky blackness begins to rise around them both.
The specter is there and then there is a violent slash of light. They grab its hand, pulls. Light and darkness envelops them both. It gets crushed under the weight of black.
It is dragged. Down, or up, it isn’t sure. It feels like it is torn to pieces. It hears her screech one final time— MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE
Then, nothing.
It’s too quiet. That’s the first thing the vessel notes when it comes to. It’s so used to the loud and piercing screams of the Radiance that when there’s an absence of it, it feels off. It jerks upwards, though something about the movement feels wrong. More pressingly, however, it notices how, along with being too quiet, it is too dim.
This isn’t right. It scrambles awkwardly, and for the first time in… a long time, it notes a distinct lack of burning pain. Something is going on. Its vision adjusts to its dim surroundings, catching onto a giant hulking thing beside it. It’s a pale color, with small limbs sprouting from its large body and a strange gold mask for a head. A bug. A bug like nothing it has ever seen before– Except, no, the golden mask rings familiar. It has seen it in its dreams. Dreams involving the… that other vessel. What was it doing again?
The void within its head pounds. Once again, that off feeling returns, like its entire being is getting squeezed. It stares at the unconscious bug’s mask. They do not appear to be awake, though they are twitching and muttering. There is something incredibly unnerving about this bug, the aura emitting from them practically suffocating it.
It backs away. Its steps don’t make a sound, the impact of its foot hitting the ground feeling incredibly foreign. Is this… another dream? Did the Radiance place it somewhere unexpected for a false sense of security? It observes its surroundings, a dimly lit cavern piled with trash and partially filled with water. The location is unfamiliar. It is not in the Black Egg Temple, like it should be, if it is awake. If the Radiance is doing this to be unpredictable, then she has definitely succeeded.
Amidst this strange stillness, there is nothing for the vessel to do. It could just wait, but wait for what? Her? It also is not so keen to stay around this hulking bug, even though they seem to be incapacitated at the moment. Everything about this situation is wrong. The vessel is lucid– It is not experiencing this moment in pained fragments, under blinding lights, and in searing pain. Its vision is warped as well; everything seems to be too large.
The hulking figure twitches once more. The vessel tenses, but the figure does not arise. It should leave. Despite the fact that this is probably a trap by the Radiance, it is not going to sit around idly. Its duty is to subdue her, and it must find a way to do so.
It moves quickly, and it notes how easy it feels to move. It’s nothing like when in the company of the Radiance, where it is constantly suffocating in her light, struggling to move, to see, to breathe. All things considered, if this is her doing, then she is being uncharacteristically kind right now. It leaps across the scraps and rubble, marvelling at how light its steps feel.
Its legs, though… It knows something is wrong. Its legs have definitely shrunk or changed shape. No, not just its legs, its entire body. It needs to find a mirror or reflective surface of some kind. The water beneath it is too murky and dim to make out anything. It must make its way out, anyhow. It is not interested in sticking around that strange hulking figure.
It jumps past the rubble into the water. Ahead of it is a wall, but it can see a ledge to hop on in up above. If it could just figure out how to climb up… It jumps out, scrabbling against the wall in an attempt to grab purchase. Its fingers and arms are also wrong, in the shape of tiny little nubs with barely pronounced fingers. It’s extremely difficult for it to grab onto anything with its little paws. Its body was like this before, before it had molted.
Its void roils within it, threatening to stretch its shell that is too small. This situation has been wrong since it had woken up. Still, it… it must not dwell on it, must not think. It has a duty to uphold. It scrabbles against the wall once more before instinctively reaching into its cloak. It’s vaguely aware that it is carrying things, and maybe in some other time it can look at what it has more carefully. For now though, it has no time for it. It needs to find a way past this wall. It reaches in its void and feels around. There’s a… strange handle. Broken, with wide cracks running across it. It is of no use right now. Another object– a lumafly lantern. Useful, but also not too necessary right now.
Its soft, stubby fingers curl around a curved handle, and it pulls it out, revealing a mantis claw. This is what it’s been looking for. With this newfound tool, it is able to climb up the wall with a surprising agility and ease. The ledge has an overhang, and as the vessel leaps, its back muscles involuntarily twitch, revealing a pair of wings that propels itself a bit further. The vessel makes it up onto the ledge with no problem, but its mind is swimming with questions.
No. It must not think. Must not ask anything.
But… movement isn’t supposed to be this easy. It isn’t supposed to have objects on it now either. The Radiance should be appearing at any moment now, surely. Usually, when she calms down on the rare occasion, it never lasts this long. Never long enough for the vessel to not be in pain.
It pauses at the top of the ledge, a dark tunnel yawning ahead of it. What is it to do? With the Radiance suddenly gone like this, it… its lack of a purpose leaves it directionless. If this is a tactic to lull it into a false sense of security, it is very much unlike her. She rarely has the patience to wait this long. It would expect something more theatrical by now. Something. Anything. And yet, as it waits, nothing happens.
Despite the fact that it is in an unfamiliar location, the mundanity of the situation is unnerving. But… it only knows to move forward for now. It will not sit idle. It has a purpose to… to… what?
(Its purpose is nothing without her.)
It moves forward into the dark tunnels. Beneath its stubby feet, rank and greasy water flows past it. The murmurs of flukes echo within, and instinctively it reaches for the nail strapped to its back. Its hand grasps at empty air before it notes that the nail is strapped in a way where the handle is at its right side rather than its left. Another small thing that is wrong about this… whatever this is. It adjusts the nail on its back so it can easily reach it with its left hand and begins its trek forward.
From what it can tell, it is in a sewage system. Perhaps the Royal Waterways, though it has never stepped foot in there before. For now, it must make its way out.
The tunnels twist and turn in a complex network. All it knows is to go up. It encounters several flukes, but with its nail, it is able to cut through them easily. The nail is perfectly balanced for its grip, and though it is not the lightest thing imaginable, it is much lighter than its usual nail, allowing for more speed and dexterity. Another thing that makes it want to ask more questions.
(Surely, an exception can be made this time. Whatever is going on is not normal.)
After an unimaginably long trek through the tunnels (with which there was no sign of the Radiance), it spots an open hole above, its cover already lifted. Dim light– and water– spills from above. It scrabbles up quickly, surfacing onto somewhere much more familiar; an alley in the capital city of Hallownest. It still isn’t entirely sure where it is. It’s been a while since it has walked the streets of the city, and from its scattered recollection, the streets were long and winding.
…It could perhaps take a break. For now. There are no signs of any living bugs within its vicinity, and so maybe pausing to gather its bearings is a good idea. It needs to address several things before reaching the Palace, anyhow.
First things first– It can tell its body has shrunk, somehow. But more puzzlingly, there are items on it that it has definitely not owned. It pulls out its nail first. It’s a pure nail, its craftsmanship exquisite. The ridges swirl along its sides in an elegant pattern, not unlike its own nail it has used for many, many years. But that is the thing. This nail is distinctly not its own.
Much like everything else on it is not its own. It wasn’t even allowed to own anything aside from its nail and armor, and suddenly, carrying all these items feels like it is committing a grave mistake of some kind. Like it has stolen someone’s possessions. (It couldn’t have, could it? And if it did, then perhaps it should return these immediately. But to whom?)
It needs to get to the bottom of this. It observes the rest of its inventory within its cloak. Pinned within and outside of it are various charms, glinting with an array of colors in the dim lighting. It has never used charms before. Using one would indicate a personal flair, would indicate a preference of some kind. To see so many… Well. It shouldn’t feel anything. (Still, it is unable to suppress that rise of panic.)
Next. There’s the lumafly lantern, which it has used at some parts of the waterways when the lighting hasn’t been adequate enough. There’s the mantis claw, as well as a crystal core of some sort. And… the broken handle that it hadn’t fully observed. At one end is a round dream sigil, a crack marring it. It… It senses that this is important.
a tear, pulling it, out, out, out–
It shoves it back into its cloak. There are more things to look at. It gives a onceover to the faded stone journals, Hallownest seals, and rancid eggs. Quite a number has been accrued, but it doesn’t know how. Its hand pulls out a King’s idol. It can tell it is the only idol it is carrying right now. It grasps it, staring into its dark eyes. It’s very well made, carved with an intricate detail that is expected of such an idol. Its hand trembles minutely, and it pushes it back underneath the cloak. It must not think, must not feel. For some reason, the idol feels so heavy in its void.
Moving on. It pulls out a tram pass, which could be useful for traveling around. It never was the traveling sort– it had hardly ever left the White Palace. Then, it pulls out a scroll, unraveling it to reveal a large map. Oh. This is a map of all of Hallownest. Its void twitches uncomfortably in its gut. If the tram pass is a reminder that it has never traveled, the map is even more so. It is stained with ink, with simplified, crudely drawn significant landmarks on the map and a variety of pins marking specific passages and caverns. Whoever has created this map is someone well traveled, who clearly cares a lot for detail. It oozes with meticulous care.
Something within it roils, and it rolls the map back up before tucking it back into its cloak. Right. It thinks it has gotten most of its inventory knocked out. How and why it has all these items, it can’t recall. It will have to return these items eventually.
Now, onto the other mystery at hand. Its shrunken body. With the better lighting from the city’s lumafly lights, it is able to better observe its limbs. It is just as if it has become a freshly hatched grub again. It holds up its nubby hands in front of it, wiggling its barely pronounced fingers. How strange. There’s a weird stiffness to its movements, a strange detachment it gets when moving its limbs.
Its void feels so foreign within its shell. It has to test if it can still use its abilities. It focuses its soul, and that, too, feels a bit foreign. It is able to conjure clumsy bursts of soul as it replenishes itself, but it cannot refine them into neat circles nor be accurate with the placements. It notes to remove the flashy bits next time. Next, it attempts to summon its usual soul daggers. This is a bit easier to do, but it comes out in a fast and loud burst, and the two daggers that come out are unrefined and large. It flies off and hits a sign, causing a clanging sound to echo across the alley.
Right. It supposes it could try to refine that spell again later. And then, perhaps for its next move it could–
In front of it, the chains of a lift rattles as it descends. It freezes. It doesn’t recall accidentally hitting the lever. It doesn’t make any moves as a bearded bug descends from the lift, grasping a broom of some kind in a defensive stance. It stares, and the bug stares back for a brief second. His shoulders relax upon laying eyes upon the vessel.
“Oh, of course it’s just you,” he grumbles. He straightens, tapping the handle of the broom on the ground. “Now would you mind telling me why in the world you are making such a racket?!”
It stares. Why is this bug acting like he knows it? It doesn’t have an answer, nor could it answer anyways. The bug in front of it shifts on his feet.
“... Well? Aren’t you going to go off on your grand adventures? If you are going to make a racket, then don’t do it here.” He pauses. “Or… perhaps you have come to sell more relics?”
It continues to stare. It doesn’t understand what he is talking about. He must have mistaken it for someone, no, something else. But– It itches. More than anything, it wants to look at a mirror. Would this bug have answers? He ought to tell it what to do.
He doesn’t. In fact, he seems to not know what to do with it. Just as well, it doesn’t know what to do with itself either. Still… He must know something. It steps forward, opening its cloak to reveal its charms. Perhaps this is what he is looking for?
The bug looks dumbfounded. “No, not those. Your relics.”
Relics… Relics… It pulls out a Hallownest seal. This?
“Right, yes.” He takes in a sharp breath. “Let’s go upstairs, shall we? I am not interested in doing business in an alleyway.” He stalks off back to the lift. The vessel stares, and as he steps onto it, he turns around, narrowing his eyes at it expectantly.
“Are you just going to stand around or what?” He asks sharply.
It stares a bit longer before following after him onto the lift. His hand jolts out quickly to switch the lever to go to the second floor, as if to prevent the vessel pulling it first. It never would. It’s just here to get answers. Perhaps he is the original owner of the items on it. It can return them all back. He leads it to the end of a hallway, opening a door to reveal a room lined with shelves. On the shelves is a vast collection of Hallownest seals, journals, King’s idols, and various artifacts. Ah, so this is what he means. It follows after him, and he places his broom in the corner of the room before sitting heavily back down on a seat behind a counter.
“Now,” he says, tapping his hand on the counter. “Your relics?”
It pulls out all of the Hallownest seals and journals it has from its cloak, placing them out onto the counter. (It is so strange that the counter is taller than it.) He nods expectantly. And then… Hesitantly, it pulls out a rancid egg. At this, the bearded bug makes a face, or as much of a face he can make from behind his beard. “I have no use for that. Put it back.” Right, so it cannot return these eggs to him.
It reaches in, pulls out the King’s idol. Its carved face stares back at it.
“Oh wonderful. I’ve been hoping you’d find more of those,” the bug states. “Hand it over, then.”
It should obey. It was built with a purpose to obey every command. And yet, it doesn’t immediately hand it over like it should. It can’t. The King stares back at it. It trembles, pulling it close to itself.
The bug in front of it lets out a huff. “Fine, keep it if you want. Not sure what a little demon like you needs it for.”
No, no, no. It was supposed to return these items that weren't its own. It tears its gaze away from the idol and places it onto the counter. He should take it. It is his.
“You sure?” The bug asks, narrowing his eyes. “All purchases are final. I will not be selling it back to you.”
Purchase? It is returning his items. He can take them all back for all it cares, but it knows he has not expressed much interest in its charms nor the eggs. It waits patiently for him to take it back, and he finally does so after scrutinizing it for a bit.
“You’re acting a bit strange right now,” he comments, then clicks his mouth. “More than usual, anyways.”
More than usual? It has never seen this bug in its life. It itches to look at a mirror, and as the bug begins to stash away the relics on his shelves, the vessel begins to look at its surroundings. It's a small and dingily lit area, but certainly lived in. The shelves, although cluttered, seem to be well kept and regularly dusted. The area seems to be much cleaner and has a certain organized chaos compared to the outside hallways. A large window faces out into the city square below. It walks up to the window to observe its reflection and… Oh. The window is facing the memorial statue. It had never seen it in person, but it knows of it, as the Pale King had begun to plan to erect it right before it was sealed away. Something about it makes its void turn over uncomfortably.
It forces its attention to its reflection. A good enough distraction, surely. As expected, a small version of itself stares back at it in its reflection. Its void eyes and mask are round, just like it has been in its youth. Yet… It catches onto what is wrong almost immediately. The shape of its horns are wrong.
It is not looking at itself. It is looking at the specter that it had let drop into the abyss all those years ago. It tilts its head. The specter does the same, mirroring its exact movements.
A sudden realization crashes into it. It all makes sense now– the way the bearded bug reacted to it, the way it has all of these items it has never owned before. It is more than just stealing items. Rather, it has stolen the specter’s body.
It doesn’t know what to do. Mutely, it hears the voice of the bearded bug telling it about the total sum of geo. Some number that is not relevant to it. It backs away, noting how the specter does so in the mirror. It can’t look at it anymore. It runs out of the shop, faintly noting the bearded bug shouting after it.